The most stationary of all stationery items, scissors hate to be hurried. I learned this as a child. You did too, probably. Don't run with scissors. A clear and simple instruction. Pencils, glue, staples... no problem. For them, like us, it's a finite existence. Time is short so don't dilly dally. But don't run with scissors.

Wednesday, 16 November 2011

last night i dreamt...

Last night I had a very strange dream. It wasn’t exactly disturbing, at least not in the way people usually use that word in connection with the nocturnal wanderings of their minds. But it did disturb my sleep.

I was in a house that was a combination of several places I’ve lived in. That’s a fairly common dream motif for me. In one of the rooms my father (who died in January of this year) was sitting at a table talking about my mother – who died in 1997.

I don’t recall anything he said. But I remember wishing he would stop talking. The other thing I remember was that he had no ear lobes.

I left that room and walked into another. In this room stood a wardrobe that belonged to my mother before she was married. This is a real wardrobe, I had it collected from my parents’ house in 2002 and had it shipped to mine. Back to the dream, where the wardrobe was the only thing in this particular room – a room that resonated to the sound of a low-buzzing.

On closer inspection, the whole inside of the wardrobe was a hornets’ nest. Which was a cause for concern as I was then struck by the realisation there was something important in there that I needed to get to.

What could it all mean….?

Answers on a postcard please, to the following address:
Sean Is Clearly Bonkers
PO Box 999
Etc etc etc….

(or leave a comment)

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